BooksBarbecue
Back The Preserve
Chapters (56)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Half-Title Page
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright Page
  5. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  6. 1.
  7. 2.
  8. 3.
  9. 4.
  10. 5.
  11. 6.
  12. 7.
  13. 8.
  14. 9.
  15. 10.
  16. 11.
  17. 12.
  18. 13.
  19. 14.
  20. 15.
  21. 16.
  22. 17.
  23. 18.
  24. 19.
  25. 20.
  26. 21.
  27. 22.
  28. 23.
  29. 24.
  30. 25.
  31. 26.
  32. 27.
  33. 28.
  34. 29.
  35. 30.
  36. 31.
  37. 32.
  38. 33.
  39. 34.
  40. 35.
  41. 36.
  42. 37.
  43. 38.
  44. 39.
  45. 40.
  46. 41.
  47. 42.
  48. 43.
  49. 44.
  50. 45.
  51. 46.
  52. 47.
  53. 48.
  54. EPILOGUE
  55. AFTERWORD
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Lett’s laugh sputtered out. He stared at Jock. “Stay with us instead,” he said. He didn’t have to spell out what it meant. They could be on the lam quite a while.

“It’s not my style,” Jock muttered.

“Then, don’t reenlist. Promise me that much.”

“Too late. My mind’s made up.”

Lett’s chest tightened and grew hot, as if he were smoking and holding it all in.

“I am what I am,” Jock said. “They drilled it into me. And, hell, I’m practically an Asiatic anyways. What am I supposed to do back there, home sweet home? Become a Pinkerton man? Busting strikes? Cracking down on the next wave of vets with a valid beef?” He spat.

Lett only now noticed that Kanani had left them alone. She was crawling out into the daylight with the binoculars. Jock was watching her, too, and an incredulous smile spread across his face as if he were watching some rare bird in a zoo. “One hell of a dame,” he said.

“Ain’t she, though?”

“She did what she had to do.”

Jock went through his pack with Lett, separating items. He handed Lett one canteen, a can of C-rat, a spoon. Lett handed back the can. Where would he put it? Jock gave him the last tropical bar instead. He slung his pack back on.

“Keep your head down, gyrene,” Lett said.

“You do the same, dogface.”

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Lett said.

He saw the glint of tears in Jock’s eyes. Jock must’ve seen Lett’s own tears welling.

“Give me an hour,” Jock said.

“Will do. Give ’em hell.”

Jock squeezed Lett’s shoulders. “You just make it out, will you? And some day? I hope you will know where to find me,” he said, and he was off, scampering out the cave on his haunches like he was playing crab.

Lett, his eyes blurring wet, watched as Jock and Kanani shared gentle words and a hug out in the gully. Kanani pushed the binoculars into Jock’s hands. He forced them back on her. She took them, pressed them to her chest like a teddy bear. Jock kissed her cheek. And he was away again and out into the blazing daylight. So fast had he passed through Lett’s strange life that Lett wasn’t sure if his soldier friend was an angel or a ghost.

47.